


Geralt x Jaskier One Shot Collection

by ebenflo



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:15:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24143464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebenflo/pseuds/ebenflo
Summary: Just a collection of one-shots and drabbles about everyone's favourite Witcher and his Bard. Summary of each in chapter titles.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	Geralt x Jaskier One Shot Collection

Even with all her powers and her status, Ciri has never felt more like a helpless child than she does now.

The old keep is silent except for the occasional squalling cry of a baby. Geralt’s baby. Geralt’s baby who Geralt hasn’t touched or held since he arrived, red-faced and wrinkled, his sire now on his death-bed. No, she musn’t think like that, Ciri chides herself. She needs to be strong - for Jaskier, and Geralt, and her new baby brother, who knows nothing of the world but the cold stone walls of Kaer Morhen.

Ciri creeps into the room where Geralt has been paying vigil for the past day and a half. He hasn’t meditated. No food nor drink have passed his lips. Witchers are known for their incredible stamina, Ciri knows, but this is different. Yennefer says she’s done all she can, and now all they can do is wait. J _ust…give it time_ , she had whispered, squeezing Ciri’s cold bare arm, before retiring for the night herself. Ciri creeps closer to Geralt and realises he’s saying something.

“Please Jask…please, I can’t. Can’t do this without you. Gods, please.”

“Geralt?” Ciri tries softly. Geralt doesn’t say anything, doesn’t turn around, but he does stop his whispered litany. “Father?”

“I’m not your father,” Geralt mutters, and Ciri tries not to let it wound her. Geralt is hurting so badly at the moment, he doesn’t mean it. “I’m not fit to be anyone’s father.”

“The child needs you,” Ciri tries. She sits down at his feet without waiting for an invitation. Her eyes flicker over to Jaskier’s still, pale form.

“The _child_ can be damned to hell,” Geralt spits out savagely. “It almost killed him, Cirilla. I— even now. He’s slipping from my fingers.”

Ciri glances up at Geralt. The broken look on his face will stay with her for a long time, she thinks. She takes her chances and edges closer to him, gently touching his left knee with her fingertips. Her touch seems to bring about a change and he looks at her - really looks at her- for the first time in what feels like days. His eyes are bright in the firelight with unshed tears and he pets the crown of her head, knots his fingers in the sweep of her hair.

“Ciri, I’m sorry,”

“Hush now,” Ciri soothes, resting her cheek against Geralt’s knee. “You don’t want Jaskier to see you crying when he wakes, do you?”

Geralt huffs a soft, wet laugh, and though it is mirthless it will have to do for now.

“No, I suppose not. When did you get so wise, little cub?”

“I suppose my father taught me well.”


End file.
